And a Toast to Chaos
by ajaielle
Summary: Brenda's ex-husband pays her a visit at the office, and things don't go over well. He's slimy, she's pissed, Raydor's trying to smooth things over, and the Major Crimes gang is just looking for some entertainment... *Now Complete*
1. Chapter 1

_Disclaimer: If you recognize it, I don't own it._

"I'm here to see Brenda Leigh Johnson," the man announced to the idle group in the Murder Room. They all looked up; some frowning mildly, others completely disinterested.

"I'll –" Gabriel started.

"Oh, I think she's seen me," he noted abruptly, peering through the windows of Brenda's office. Sure enough she marched out and headed straight for him, looking none too pleased. Her subordinates tensed slightly; this couldn't be good.

"Dave," Brenda greeted in a tight voice, "what the hell're you doin' here?" And with the tone she was using, even her own detectives began to seriously considering running for the hills. (But this was something they absolutely could _not_ miss seeing.) It was a wonder that this man, who Brenda obviously knew, hardly flinched.

"Hello, Brenda Leigh," he returned pleasantly – almost affectionately. While Brenda looked as if she could blow her top at any second, Dave couldn't seem more at ease. "It's been a long time."

"And what part of 'I never want to see you again' did you not understand the first time?" She snapped, oblivious to the fact that they had an audience. It wasn't even as if she was shouting, however – on the contrary, her voice got lower and deadlier the angrier she got.

Dave responded at normal volume. "I was hoping that you would've changed you mind after all these years." He shrugged, as if it were the simplest concept to grasp. His eyes drifted to her left hand – or more specifically, the ring on her finger. "Oh." He looked crestfallen. "I guess I waited _too _long." He seemed genuinely disappointed.

Brenda crossed her arms. "This is a place of work. And if you don't leave here _right_ this minute, I'll arrest you for harassin' a police officer."

The conversation had snagged the attention of everyone in the room – even Taylor in his supercubicle had poked his head around the partition, his confusion mirroring everyone else's as he observed the peculiar exchange.

Dave only grinned, saying "You've always been the bossy type. But I gotta say – you've done well for yourself all these years, Bren; all these men working under you, for you." He waggled his eyebrows. "Does all this power turn you on?"

Brenda gaped, flushing, and before she could respond he lamented, "I hope that husband of yours treats you right, Bren. You deserve it." He paused, and allowed his eyes to rake up and down her slight form lecherously.

Someone – most likely Flynn, or Sanchez – shifted in their chair, totally prepared to throw this creep out of the building if it came to that.

"You still look good; you've hardly aged a bit. I wonder – can he make you scream like I could?"

WHAM.

Brenda landed a solid right hook across his face.

Dave stumbled backwards, clutching his bleeding mouth as he muttered choice curse words, and the squad room went very, very quiet.

"And you're still a bastard." Brenda declared. She wrenched his arms roughly behind his back, probably using more force than was necessary and demanded sharply to the room at large, "Handcuffs! I need a pair of handcuffs from somebody."

No one moved; they were all still too stunned by the outcome of the situation to even process to her words.

She twisted to face them expectantly.

Provenza was the first to recover; he tossed her his pair from where he was sitting and she caught them one-handed before slapping them over Dave's wrists in record time. Also probably unnecessary. She shoved him roughly from behind, leading him out of the room. Even in her three inch heels, she only just barely cleared his nose, but it was perfectly obvious who was in charge.

"Walk!" She instructed, marching him towards the interrogation rooms. "We'll discuss this more privately." And they all felt intensely glad to not be in that man's shoes.

_TBC…_

_Feedback, anyone? Like it? Hate it?_


	2. Chapter 2

**_A/N: Thanks to those who reviewed / story-alerted; I'm glad that everyone seems to like this so far! Here's the next part; it's something of a filler but if it's well-received, I'll be fast with an update! ;) Don't forget to review!_**

* * *

><p>After Brenda left there was a pause and a painful silence – and then a nervously cleared throat started a flurry of motion.<p>

"I'll call FID."

"I'll call Fritz."

"What the _hell_ just happened?"

"I think that's her ex-husband."

"Ohh, Taylor's gonna get a kick out of this – I'll call him, too." Flynn said with barely suppressed glee.

Right on cue, Taylor appeared from his cubicle. "There's no need – I saw it all, Lieutenant."

Flynn looked up, surprised. "Oh, you're there. I keep forgetting you still don't have your own office."

"I've got the first aid kit –" Tao offered, withdrawing a plastic box from his Bottomless Drawer, when Provenza cut him off scathingly.

"That son of a bitch does not need or deserve immediate treatment!"

"– for her _hand_." Tao clarified. "You don't go knocking people around like that without a bit of damage."

Sanchez chuckled. "The chief throws a pretty good punch."

"_Damn_ I am so glad not to be him right now!"

"That's what happens when you piss her off, folks, so watch yourselves." Gabriel announced darkly, only half-joking.

"D'you think we should call Pope?"

"Do you want the chief to punch you, too? Leave it."

"Wait, where did she just take him?"

"She was walking him towards the interrogation suite – Buzz!"

"I'm going!" He practically barreled towards the electronics room, showing uncharacteristic eagerness.

"Make sure it records _everything_; she should probably keep this one for the scrapbooks."

"Alright, people; let's go – don't wanna miss this!" Provenza declared. He, Tao, Gabriel, Flynn, Sanchez and Taylor all squeezed into the media room as Buzz turned on the monitors. The sight and sound of the chief's ex-husband filled the room as he swore at her profusely.

"Oh, would you look at that," Tao crowed as he observed the blood painting Dave's chin. "It looks like it hurts!"

Flynn and Sanchez fist bumped, grinning ridiculously.

"That's really no way to talk to a lady," Buzz remarked.

"She was married to _that_?" Gabriel said in disbelief.

They watched Brenda reach her hand under the edge of the table, and suddenly all of the monitors went black.

Taylor leaned forward. "Buzz. Buzz, what just happened?"

"She – she killed the feed!" He exclaimed despondently. He tried multiple knobs and buttons on his switchboard, but the screens stayed blank. The whole room seemed to deflate at the news.

" . . . Now what?"

* * *

><p>Brenda was mad. Like really goddamn freaking <em>pissed<em>. Her life had been just fine – great, even – before Dave decided to waltz right back into the middle of it all of a sudden, ten years after she thought she'd have been free of him for good, and he messed everything up.

He'd shown up at her _work_! Brenda still couldn't get over her disgust at that. It was like her Atlanta PD days all over again. He showed up at her work, made a scene in the middle of the office (okay, so maybe that was her, but it was _his_ fault), and embarrassed her in front of her detectives . . .

She ought to just arrest him now and save herself additional trouble.

As it turned out, that was exactly what she did. Perhaps she hadn't really thought it through; according to the law (sometimes it was absolutely the bane of her existence) he'd done nothing to warrant being handcuffed and thrown into an interview room like a common criminal. (She could've just as easily put him in her office, but the interview room was more impersonal, and she needed impersonal. What she _didn't_ need was him nosing around her office and looking at her things, arrogantly thinking that he still knew her after all these years when he didn't.)

Now being punched in the face, that _had_ been deserved. And in any case, the law didn't cover asshole-ism – that was something for which the consequences were entirely up to the victim's discretion. In this case, Brenda. And she thought he wholeheartedly deserved a bleeding mouth after having harassed her like that.

All things considered, though, she'd handled herself well. _Really. _Her initial impulse had been to smash his face in with something much more substantial than her fist (her knuckles had split slightly; she hoped Tao might have something for it in that magical drawer of his), and then take a hammer to his you-know-whats.

It was less than he deserved, after all the grief she'd gone through in her year of marriage to him. And then this. Seriously! He had _the nerve_ to track her down again and . . .

The point was, she'd behaved herself, relatively speaking. And for that, Brenda thought she deserved a goddamnned medal. Or a ding dong. A ding dong would be good.

And if now she succeeded in resisting the urge to reach over the interview table, wrap her hands around Dave's throat and squeeze until he went blue in the face, well then they could build a freaking monument to her self-control!

Brenda sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose in frustration. She ignored Dave, who was currently popping loosed teeth out of his mouth and dripping blood all over the table. (Her detectives would probably be proud of her.) He was _still_ trying to talk; obviously he hadn't learned his lesson. His words, however, were now angry and vicious – a complete 180 from what they were before she punched him. (Maybe he _did_ learn – it was just the wrong lesson.) But this she remembered well from the marriage. (She could not, for the life of her, recall why she'd put up with it for as long as she had.)

"Bitch" liberally interspersed his ranting as she sat across from him and simply glared, assessing him as she would any other perp. Almost absent-mindedly, her hand wandered under the edge of the table and flipped the switch to cut off the video equipment. If she knew her squad, they'd be watching this minute by minute, and she _really_ did not need an audience to her misfortune.

Yeah. A ding dong sounded really good right about now.

* * *

><p><em><strong>Reviews make me update ;)<strong>_


	3. Chapter 3

The men all stared blankly at the computer screens for a few minutes, as if they could get it to turn on by force of will alone.

"She probably figured we were watching." Buzz said finally, his shoulders slumped in disappointment.

"You think – you think she'll change her mind and turn it back on?" Tao wondered without any real hope.

There was a collective sigh.

"I guess . . . I guess that means we should . . . go back to our desks . . . since there's nothing to see here." Gabriel said regretfully.

"Yeah." No one moved. The silence stretched.

"I suppose we should –" Gabriel tried again, but was cut off mid-sentence when the door opened to admit one Sharon Raydor.

* * *

><p>"Aren't you going to say anything?" Dave hissed at Brenda when she didn't answer him. His inability to get a rise out of her was only increasing his ire; it'd never been this difficult before. Fifteen years before. But Brenda Leigh wasn't one for change. If he got under her skin once, he could do it again and he would. The bitch almost broke his fucking <em>jaw<em> for Christ's sake! He'd swung by to pay her a visit, having been in town and all (well, perhaps that wasn't necessarily true, but he'd be damned before he'd admit to flying all the way across the States just to see her again), and what did he get for his troubles? Missing. Teeth. That bitch.

"How the _hell_ did you find me?" She asked through a set jaw, throwing the words out like they disgusted her. Her nose crinkled the way it always did when she was angry – he'd be lying if he said that that look didn't still make his blood race – and it was only confirmation that she was still indeed the woman he'd married all those years ago. Even if _she_ thought she'd changed so much after all these years. He knew better. She loved him then (until she didn't, but he was willing to look past that and forgive her), and a tiny part of her still loved him now: he just had to remind her of it.

"Honey, you've been all over the papers – the LAPD race for Chief of Police? News that big gets around." He scoffed. "But you didn't get the job, I see. Sorry, Brenda Leigh; I guess you really _aren't _as good as you always thought you were."

Her eyes flashed; he was finally getting under her skin. Maybe. Probably. It was hard to tell with her, but it was a start, at least. He was determined to push the advantage – hate sex was always better, anyway. But then she smirked. That couldn't be a good sign.

* * *

><p>Sharon blinked, trying to make sense of the seven men all crowded into a rather cramped computer room. "What's going on," she said slowly, unsure if she really wanted to know. They paused and stared back at her with deer-in-the-headlights expressions.<p>

"You called FID?" Provenza hissed sotto voce to no one in particular.

"I said that I was!"

"When the chief finds out she'll punch your lights out."

There was a murmur of agreement.

"Look – it was gonna happen eventually and the sooner it gets done the less pain there'll be!"

"And _still_ no one's answered my question."

The room fell silent. They all looked at Captain Raydor somewhat awkwardly, no one really willing to go about explaining this mishap.

"Well," Gabriel began finally, looking enormously uncomfortable, "the chief's ex-husband, it seems, came in to pay her a visit this morning, and um . . ." he looked around for support and was given nothing.

"Out with it, Detective," Raydor snapped impatiently. "Why am I here?"

"And he said something, um . . . inappropriate . . . and . . . andshepunchedhim." He finished quickly, glossing not-so-subtly over the less important details. He averted his gaze as Raydor's eyes widened.

"She didn't!"

"She did."

"Ah, hell. Doesn't she realize how much _paperwork_ this creates on my end?" She exclaimed in disgust. She turned to them again, all business. "I take it that Chief Pope has been notified as well?"

Silence. It was all the answer she needed. She rolled her eyes. "Do I have to do everything?" She slipped her cell from her suit pocket. Provenza caught her wrist.

"Captain Raydor," he said quite seriously, "would you like for the chief to punch _your_ lights out?"

Sanchez leaned over towards Tao. "I don't know," he muttered, "I think Raydor could really hold her own in a fistfight with the Chief."

"Catfight." Tao corrected. "That's something I'd pay money to see."

Sharon disengaged her arm from Provenza's hold and proceeded to dial Will's number. "Well, it's only a matter of time." She reasoned, and pressed the phone to her ear.

* * *

><p>Brenda fought to keep her lip from curling. <em>Not as good as she thought she was.<em> Bullshit. She was freaking _fantastic, _thank you very much! She was a CIA-trained, top-class interrogator, and she still hadn't lost her edge. Her closure rate was just as high as it'd always been, and she was an invaluable asset to the department!

She smirked at him. "You know why I didn't get the job, Dave? I killed a man the day before the mayor was going to make his choice for Chief. Shot him through the chest. Mayor didn't really like that." She told him nonchalantly. "FBI had been lookin' for him for two years and in two days _I _found him and Ishot him dead." She raised an eyebrow, amused. "I _am_ as good as I think I am, Dave; don't talk to me about things you don't understand. Now why the hell are you here?"

He crossed his arms, looking slightly offended by her nasty tone. _And of all things to be offended at_, Brenda thought. "Why's it such a crime to pay a friend a visit?"

"We're _not_ friends, Dave." She snarled at him. "We didn't even end on good terms! Now what part of 'I never want to see you again' did you not understand the first time?"

He shrugged easily. "Just thought that in ten years you mighta cooled down a bit."

"And you thought that the best way to test _that_ ridiculous notion was to come _to my work _and embarrass me in front of my colleagues." Her eyes narrowed. "I wonder," she spat, "why this sounds so familiar!"

* * *

><p>'<em>Pope<em>.'

"Chief. It's Captain Raydor. There's a . . . situation . . . going on in Major Crimes right now, and you'll probably need to be present for this."

'_Of course, Captain. I'll be right – Wait, why am I hearing this from you instead of Chief Johnson?'_

"Because she _is _the situation, Chief. Like, right now."

On the other end, Will sighed. '_Dammit. Why did no one on her team notify me, then? Three lieutenants and two detectives – I'm quite certain they know how to work a telephone.'_

"They want to keep their lights in." She responded easily, turning a steely gaze on the occupants of the room. They all resisted the urge to cower instinctively under the Raydor Glare. "Just get down here." She ended the call and asked the room at large, "Where _is_ Chief Johnson?"

"Interview room."

Sharon froze. "You mean to tell me," she said slowly, dragging out every syllable in a dangerously low voice, "that Chief Johnson is with the victim in question, in an enclosed space . . . _unsupervised_?" She was aghast. "And _none_ of you see a problem with this?"

"He's far cry from 'victim', Captain."

"That's not the point. Why aren't the monitors on, at least?"

"She killed the feed."

"Ah. So God knows what she's doing to him in there!"

"Nah, I think even God is a little afraid to watch – Captain?" Flynn called as she marched out of the media room. "Captain, where're you going?"

"I have to talk to the Chief!"

**_TBC . . ._**

* * *

><p><strong><em>AN: Feedback inspires me: please review! And if there's something you'd like to see, drop me a line and I'll definitely try to add it in somewhere (as long as it's not too outrageous). I haven't forgotten Fritz; he'll eventually make (a very confused) appearance, so stay tuned! :)_**


	4. Chapter 4

_A/N: My endless apologies! I never meant for this update to take so long, I swear! (It's not even long enough to have warranted such an ungodly hiatus.) But here it is; feedback as always will be greatly appreciated!_

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><p>"Captain –" Flynn called exasperatedly. He followed her out, matching pace, and pulled her aside before she could reach the interview room. "Just let her work it out, FID doesn't need to get involved!"<p>

"Detective Gabriel seems to think otherwise, and I'm inclined to agree with him! If Chief Johnson is assaulting suspects it automatically triggers a Use of Force investigation. And you very well know that that is _my_ jurisdiction."

"He's not a suspect, he's her ex-husband, and a slimy motherf-"

"Lieutenant," Sharon warned.

"Okay. Sorry. But if you would just look the other way for – for ten minutes, I guarantee you that the Chief will have this issue taken care of, _and_ you won't have any paperwork whatsoever!"

"Not while she's on company time, Flynn." Sharon shook her head. "Getting into it here, at the office, of all places . . ."

"That was _not_ her fault. C'mon, Sharon," Flynn begged. "For me? We used to be partners, you know!"

"Why does this matter so much to you?" She asked curiously. She wanted to know. If he was playing the we-used-to-be-partners card he had to be awfully desperate.

Flynn straightened and looked her in the eye. "I like the Chief. I respect her. That son of a bitch doesn't, and probably never did, but she's standing up for herself in there! And I don't think that should be denied to her. Do you?" He knew she understood from personal experience.

Sharon sighed. She ran her fingers through her hair. "No, I don't, Flynn. But if she's going to punch someone in the face in a police station – where she happens to work, I might add – she _had_ to know that I'd be all over that! It's my job," she stressed. He waited for her to come to a decision.

She considered Flynn for a moment. "Alright, Lieutenant." She said finally. "Ten minutes, that's _it_. And then I'm coming right back down here."

He grinned and squeezed her arm affectionately. "You're a good woman, Sharon. Even if most people can't see past the chilly work façade."

She rolled her eyes. "Right, well don't tell anyone; I have a reputation to uphold." Her stilettos clacked against the tiles as she walked away. Over her shoulder, she called, "Oh yeah, but don't forget: Pope's on his way down here. Sorry." She added, and meant it. But what was done couldn't be undone – she'd be back to curb the damage later, anyway.

"Wait, where're you going?" Flynn exclaimed after her, sounding newly distressed. "If you called him down here you've got to help me weather him out! You're gonna be coming back in ten minutes anyway; where could you _possibly_ be going?"

She rounded the corner and headed towards their break room, rolling her eyes. And what did he expect her to do during those ten minutes, make small talk with him? Please. She didn't do small talk. She'd much rather raid their fridge, perhaps pour herself another coffee, and maybe catch the tail end of _Days of Our Lives._

"Someone fill me in." Pope announced as he swept into the already-beyond-capacity tech room and nearly fell on top of Taylor. Everyone blinked at him, and no one spoke. Seven heads swiveled in Gabriel's direction. He crossed his arms and shook his head fervently.

"Nuh-uh. No way you guys are gonna make me explain this _all_ over again – I already did it once for Raydor! It's someone else's turn." He insisted.

"I don't care _who_, just _somebody_ tell me what's going on here! Are we going to have another lawsuit on our hands?" Pope demanded impatiently. Silence. "Ah, for Christ's –" he turned his eyes heavenward, and muttered under his breath.

"Well . . . it might not escalate _that_ far, sir." Buzz offered, warily eyeing their Acting Chief of Police. "You see," he continued hurriedly as Pope turned the glare his way, "Chief Johnson's ex-husband came by, and was harassing her, and . . . andthenshepunchedhim." Buzz finished much the same way Gabriel had only a few minutes before. Everyone cringed in collective anticipation of Pope's imminent explosion. He didn't disappoint.

"SHE WHAT?" He roared.

"Maybe the question should be 'he what'," Buzz muttered.

"She punched him." Provenza said slowly, as if talking to a particularly dim-witted child.

"No, Lieutenant, THANK YOU, I do not need you to repeat it. It's bad enough to hear once!" Pope snapped.

"_We_ had to tell it twice, _and_ witness it happening." Gabriel muttered in the corner, too low for Pope to hear.

"This is great. Just great. _Exactly _what this division needs – a fresh-opened FID investigation on allegations of police brutality." He snarked, voice dripping with sarcasm. "And her _ex-husband_, no less. Of all the people to show up here . . ."

Pope could feel the beginnings of a migraine coming on. In all honesty, he was more pissed off at the fact that he'd be spending the rest of the day refereeing another Raydor/Johnson showdown than he was at any possibilities of police brutality – the two women together were like _animals_. (He forcibly shuttered his mind against visions of the Captain and Brenda circling each other in a boxing ring, clad in shiny pleather Catwoman suits. He needed to focus.) For someone who so obviously hated dealing with her, Brenda sure managed to ensnare herself in a hell of a lot of Raydor-involving incidents.

For him, that always seemed to equate a full blown headache and a semi hard-on. _I hate my job, I hate my job, I hate my job –_

"Where's the Captain?" He asked. Better to get this whole mess over with.

Taylor hiked his thumb over his shoulder. "It looked like she was headed for the interview room. Flynn went after her though; tried to stop her before you got here. Can't say if he was successful or not." He was utterly unconcerned either way. Will left the room.

* * *

><p>Will didn't know the first thing about Brenda's former marriage. In all the time he'd known her, the fact never really even gelled in his mind that Brenda <em>had,<em> in fact, been married before. Well, before she'd moved to LA, and after their affair in DC. By that time, she'd already moved back to Atlanta, and it wasn't like they'd bothered to keep in touch. She'd been trying to forget him, and he'd already forgotten her.

He mulled this over as he marched down the hallway when a sleek pair of legs caught his eye. He backpedaled and poked his head into the spacious break room. "Captain Raydor." She was sitting with her legs up on the tabletop, chair slightly tipped back, an apple in one hand, remote in the other. Her eyes were glued to the TV mounted on the wall: _Days of Our Lives_. Pope had to call her name again. She started, and after twisting round to see who it was, turned off the TV and swung her feet to the floor.

"Chief Pope – there you are." She tossed the half-eaten fruit in the trash bin and marched out without waiting to see if he'd follow her.

Sharon led him away from the interview rooms and babbled at him – she didn't know what about, and was pretty sure he didn't either, considering she was talking about a mile a minute and stalling for the time she'd promised Flynn. She glanced at her watch. _You get two more minutes, Flynn. _Pope struggled to keep up with her brisk pace and the erratic nonsense spewing from her mouth, still too confused to do any more than that.

She speed-walked an elongated circuit around the entire floor before leading Pope back towards the interview rooms and an antsy Flynn.

"Captain, what is going on, here? What was that for?" He demanded in exasperation, panting slightly. Raydor walked ridiculously fast for someone in heels and with seemingly no purpose in mind.

She hardly batted an eye. "It's a part of my daily exercise regimen, Chief. I'd heard about your recent weight-loss mission and I thought you might appreciate it."

Flynn struggled to keep his laughter in check.

Pope stared at her as if she'd grown an extra head. "There is a time and place for that sort of thing, Captain Raydor, and I think it is quite obvious that this is not it!"

Sharon nodded, looking appropriately chastened, and threw a brief glance in Flynn's direction. The look clearly said: _you _so_ owe me_. Indeed he did.

"She's in here, Chief." He said, gesturing towards the interview room door. They weren't shouting anymore but that could have meant any number of things, not all of them necessarily good.

Pope sighed. "Thank you, Lieutenant; Captain – with me." He knocked and entered at the same time, Sharon hot on his heels. She stumbled right into him when he stopped abruptly.

"_Chief Johnson!"_


	5. Chapter 5

"_Chief Johnson!"_

"Seriously, Chief?" Sharon added. Brenda had pinned her ex-husband against the wall with her forearm to his throat – none too gently, if his desperate gasping was anything to go by. She looked utterly furious; angrier than Sharon had ever seen her. Sharon didn't want to imagine what Dave could possibly have said to get her that way. (It looked like the basis for some totally great hate sex. Not that Sharon would know anything about that.)

The Captain moved around Will Pope, who'd completely lost the ability to do anything useful, and pulled Brenda off the guy herself. "What do you think you're doing?" She asked incredulously.

"Captain, I –"

"C'mon." Flynn said to Dave, inserting himself in the room. "You and I, we're gonna talk over here." He sneered, and dragged him outside.

"Chief Pope, you can go now, as well." Sharon added, her steely-eyed glare not leaving Brenda's. She practically pushed him out the door. "Girl talk."

Brenda gulped audibly.

**OOOOOO**

"Hey guys," Gabriel said slowly, considering something. "Why are we all still in here . . . when all the action is out there?" He looked up, bewildered. "We have no video feed, we're cramped like sardines and I'm developing a bout of claustrophobia! What are we doing in here?" And just like that, the entire division tumbled out into the corridor, nearly bowling over Agent Howard in the process.

"Agent Howard!"

"Where's Brenda?" Fritz demanded, incredibly irritated and a little angry. He had no idea what was going on, only that he had not liked the sound of what he could string together, based on the initial phoning he'd received from Flynn and the departmental talk that was already circulating the entire building. "What happened?"

"Not again." Provenza grumbled. "Next person I hear asking that is gonna have another thing coming! Come on, Howard, the action's this way; you can see for yourself." He pulled Fritz along the corridor and around the corner, and then he stopped short. He nodded his head in the direction of the break room, where Flynn and the other man could be seen conversing not so civilly. He informed Fritz, "That's the asshole, there. Chief hooked him square in the face." He chuckled, but apparently Fritz failed to see the humor in the situation.

"I kind of wanna punch him in the face too." He replied seriously. "Maybe rearrange it a little more."

Provenza gestured toward the open door. "You want Raydor on your ass, too? Be my guest." And when Fritz actually started moving forward, he frowned. "Fritz!"

"I'm just going to say hi."

"That's not – I don't think –"

"Lieutenant Flynn." Fritz greeted.

Flynn looked up, as did Dave. "Ah, _Agent_ Howard, would you like to meet our new friend here? Excuse the face; _your wife_ got a little pissed off at him earlier. But what're you gonna do? Things like that tend to happen to assholes." He smirked.

Dave's eyes flicked up and down, clearly assessing the man that was his "replacement". Well, then. "An agent, huh? You don't really seem like her type, though. Were you here to defend her honor? I'm not sure if you can tell, but our girl can take care of herself."

Fritz bristled at the "our girl" crack, but refused to rise to the bait. He was determined to leave here today _without_ having to wipe someone else's blood off his knuckles. He said instead, "_My_ girl doesn't really take shit from anyone. I guess you really pissed her off."

Dave shrugged. "What can I say – I still know how to push her buttons. It's not like it's really something I could have forgotten, though, when it always made the sex that much better." His grin stretched widely. "She always was a bit of a kinky little whore."

Flynn leapt up at the same time that Fritz lunged forward. So much for passivity. He effectively blocked Fritz's attempts to smear Dave's face all over the table. Sanchez and Provenza rushed forward from where they had been observing in the hallway, and the two of them were able to drag Fritz out of the room before he could do any damage.

"He's not worth it, Agent Howard," Sanchez grunted as they hauled him away.

Flynn rounded on the only other occupant in the room. "What the hell is your problem?" He complained loudly, glaring daggers at the no-fail asshole. "Why are you even here? _No one wants you here._"

Dave looked affronted. "Just paying my girl a visit."

"_She's not 'your girl', dickwad!"_

00000

Sharon looked at Brenda across the table, her gaze not any less piercing from behind the barrier of her glasses. She drummed her fingers on the tabletop, not talking, just glaring. It made Brenda feel like a particularly disobedient child.

_Turned the tables on the interrogator, _she thought ruefully. She shifted anxiously.

Raydor finally spoke.

"Chief." She said.

"Captain." Oh, that stupid Raydor glare! Brenda was certain it had broken many a perp before; she could very well be next.

Sharon pursed her lips, as if weighing the words that would next come out of her mouth. And grudgingly, she conceded. "You throw a good punch."

Brenda blinked. "Ex- excuse me?"

"I saw his face. The damage is . . . impressive." The barest trace of a smirk graced her face before vanishing again. "And not that I'm saying he didn't deserve it – I've met assholes like him before – but Chief Johnson, you simply _cannot_ go around punching people in the face while you're on the clock." She appraised the younger woman over the tops of her glasses. "Surely you know that." It was a statement uttered with the slightest uncertainty.

Brenda stiffened. "I will not allow my knowledge of professional protocol to –"

Raydor snorted in a rather unladylike (and very un-_Raydor_like) fashion. "Oh yes, Chief, because that was _very_ professional." Her voice dripped sarcasm, but she held up a hand to stop Brenda's tirade of indignity before it could even start. "Save it. I don't care. All I know is that I don't really want to deal with this, and I don't think you do, either." She leaned forward. "Get that crazy ex of yours to agree that he won't press charges, and I will look the other way." She paused, then added honestly, "Your career can't take another lawsuit, anyway."

"Captain Raydor, I . . . thank you. Really. _Thank you_."

"Thank Andy Flynn. He's the one who was brave enough to try to appeal to my better nature." Her lips twitched. "Besides, I've had enough of my own experiences to know that your ex probably deserved it."

"He did." Brenda confirmed bitterly. Just thinking about it was enough to piss her off all over again. They both rose and exited the room. She walked Sharon down toward the elevator bank.

As Sharon slipped into the elevator, she reminded Brenda, "No lawsuits. Make it happen." And the doors slid closed between them.

Sharon Raydor, Brenda mused, was a good person to have on your side. And she was being uncharacteristically pleasant, as of late. She paused to contemplate this for a moment; it was _indeed_ odd . . .

She shrugged, and made the walk back down to the Murder Room. Maybe it was sex. Maybe Raydor was just having really great sex. And if that made her a more pleasant person, who was Brenda to complain?

Hell, she didn't have any qualms about admitting that if she wasn't married and straight, she'd probably want to fuck the FID Captain, too. But whatever it was, she hoped it kept up. After all, Raydor made a good ally.


	6. Chapter 6

_*Sorry for the re-post; the website was glitching on me!_

_Last chapter; thanks to everyone who's read and reviewed! _

* * *

><p>She entered the Murder Room to scattered applause; apparently they'd relocated just to anticipate her arrival. She scanned the room, seeing just about everyone accounted for except Lieutenant Flynn and her asshole of an ex-husband. Fritz sat slumped at Sanchez's desk like he was in timeout (Brenda wouldn't hesitate to believe it), and a nasty scowl graced his face. It smoothed over upon seeing her.<p>

Brenda made to go to him, but was intercepted before she could take a step. Tao grasped her gently at the elbow and steered her toward his desk, where he had a first aid kit open and waiting. "That was a hell of a punch." He said conversationally, to a murmur of decidedly impressed agreement.

"Thank you, Lieutenant." She said, touched. He dabbed at the back of her hand with antiseptic and she tried not to wince. Suddenly, she was just really _tired_; not in the mood to brag and not in the mood to deal with Dave again, as she knew she had to sometime today. Because _No lawsuits_, Sharon had said. And Brenda wasn't planning on letting her down. (Besides, Raydor had been right – as she usually was – Brenda's career probably _couldn't_ take it.)

"I have to . . . um . . . where is Mr. Hastings?" She asked.

"Who?"

"Who else?" Brenda snapped. "The asshole that caused all this!" She calmed immediately. "Sorry." She offered. "I've quite lost my patience for today." She pulled back her newly bandaged hand and gave Tao a pointed look.

"He's with Lieutenant Flynn." Tao informed her. "In the break room. I think."

She blew out a breath and slumped back against the chair, nearly pouting. "Captain Raydor says she doesn't want him to file any lawsuits, and that I have to make it happen." She turned to Tao. "How the hell am I supposed to make that happen?"

"Talk to him." He provided unhelpfully. Brenda rolled her eyes and got up.

"If I so much as _look_ at him again, things are not going to end well. Flynn can do it. I'm delegating."

She swept from the room to a collective gasp of mock shock. "The chief? Delegate? _No_!"

She shook her head.

* * *

><p>Brenda reached the break room – even with the door closed, she could hear the sounds of Flynn and Dave arguing heatedly. She rapped smartly on the wood and stepped to the side so that when the door opened, she couldn't be seen from inside the room.<p>

Flynn poked his head out, lip still curled in residual irritation. Brenda raised her eyebrows at him expectantly. "Sit tight." He snapped at Dave and then stepped out, slamming the door behind him.

"Hey, chief."

She looked at him curiously. "What've you been doing in there?"

"Defending your honor." He said gallantly. Brenda smirked.

"I think I made it quite clear that I can take care of myself, Lieutenant. But thanks anyway."

A wide grin split his face. "He won't admit to it, but he's damn scared of you right now."

"Not I'm-going-to-file-a-lawsuit-against-my-ex-wife-and-her-career scared, right?" She asked nervously.

"Even beyond that."

Somehow, that didn't reassure her much. "Have you been threatening him at all, Lieutenant?"

"Nothing I can't make good on."

". . . That's not exactly what I wanted to hear."

"Ah, well."

Brenda looked at him in disbelief. "No, not 'oh well'! Lieutenant! Not 'oh well'! If he files _any_ kind of mistreatment charge because of you, or because of me, Raydor will rip me to pieces! _No lawsuits_, she said! _No lawsuits_, Lieutenant! How do I make that happen?"

"Relax, Chief. Deep breaths." Flynn gave her a few seconds to calm down, and then suggested, "Just, tell him that if he doesn't leave quietly, you'll destroy his credit score and blacklist him in the state of California." He stretched his arms wide, pleased with himself. "Problem solved."

Brenda was not as impressed. "Another threat, Lieutenant? Ah-ah."

"Well, he's already afraid of you; just go in there and yell at him some more! And then I'll even throw- escort him out of the building for you." He offered.

She glanced at the closed door regretfully. "If I go in there, I'm afraid I'll probably punch him again."

"Don't do that. Your hand's all wrecked."

She looked at him askance. "You don't think I can punch with my left hand, too?"

"Just as hard?"

"Do you doubt me, Lieutenant?"

"I guess not." He paused. "And for what it's worth, Chief, I think you scare me almost as much as you scare him, sometimes."

She nodded, expression unchanging. "Good."

* * *

><p>"Twenty says she lets Flynn go in there and beat him with a chair."<p>

"Thirty says she goes in there _herself_ and beats him with a chair."

"Forty says he'll be a fuckin' mess as soon as she _looks_ at him. She's not gonna need to beat him down at all."

Provenza passed a hand over his face. "Fifty says Raydor's gonna be furious with the way this turns out." He said gloomily. "Because there is no way this can end well."

No one challenged him on that point.

"Okay, you know what? I'm just gonna go in there, yell real fast, and I'll be outta there lickety-split." Brenda sounded more as if she were trying to convince herself than Flynn.

"Okay." He agreed.

"Okay." She didn't move.

"I'll go with you. Moral support." Flynn offered.

She glanced at him. "That's probably a good idea." The only thing she was really worried about was making the situation worse. _Use your words, not your fists; use your words not your fists; use your words, not –_

Flynn opened the door for her.

"You fuckin' son of a bitch." She said. Well . . . they _were_ words.

"Brenda." Dave tried.

"No. You don't get to talk, you get to listen. Lieutenant Flynn is gonna escort you out of the station. You're gonna leave this city, you're _not_ gonna file a lawsuit and you are _not_ gonna come back. Ever. You're gonna leave me the hell alone and we can forget this ever happened. If I ever hear _anything_ from you _ever_ again, you're gonna end up a hell of a lot worse than you are right now. And that's not a threat, it's a goddamn promise. We clear?"

Dave's mouth opened and closed like a beached fish. All his bravado had disappeared. Brenda leaned forward menacingly. Unconsciously, Dave leaned away.

"I said. Are we clear?"

He nodded.

Brenda got up. "Good. Well then Lieutenant Flynn here will take you back to wherever it is you're staying so you can grab your things, and then he'll take you to LAX so you can get the hell outta here." She said pleasantly. "I'm not sure why you're _really_ in LA, but I don't frickin' care. I wash my hands of your bullshit. Bye-bye, Dave." She turned and left without another word.

* * *

><p>"She's stronger," Dave noted, "than I remember her being." The drive from the station and now the drive to the airport had so far been a silent affair. Flynn glanced at him through the rearview mirror.<p>

"You remember her ten years ago." Flynn said dismissively. "People change."

Dave looked up, jolted from his contemplative state. "What? No -" he shook his head, "That's not what I meant. I mean, that too, but that's not what I'm talking about. I mean like she's physically more brutal. Her fists fuckin' hurt."

Flynn couldn't help but snicker. "It's all that rage. You just bring out the best in her."

Dave settled back against the seat. "Yeah," he said glumly, "That I do."

* * *

><p>Brenda heaved a sigh and fell back against the pillows. Fritz climbed in next to her, wrapping an arm around her waist. She leaned into him.<p>

"Long day." She muttered. "Glad it's over."

"Mmh. But on the bright side . . ."

"On the bright side?"

"I scored some serious cash from your team, today. Would you believe that _none_ of them thought you could make it out of the break room without losing your temper?"

"Well they _were_ almost right." Brenda admitted. "I really wanted to beat him into the floor."

She could almost hear Fritz smiling. "Sexy." He said.

She turned in his arms. "Yeah?" She whispered, her mouth curling upward.

He tumbled her beneath him and dipped his head to kiss her slowly. He smiled against her lips.

"Yeah."

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><p><em>Fin. Thanks for reading, and please review!<em>


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